


Penance

by JessieMay



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Broken Thor, Concubine Thor, Dark, Humbled Thor, Jotunn!Loki, Jötunn Loki, King Loki, M/M, Manipulative Loki, Sibling Incest, Slight Alternative Universe, Voyeurism, bottom!Thor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieMay/pseuds/JessieMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight AU set in the first movie: Odin did die during Thor's exile to Earth and the throne has fallen to Loki. He allows Thor to return but only as a servant to Asgard. Upon Thor's return, Laufey requests penance for the attack led on Jotunheim. King Loki accepts the terms.</p><p> </p><p>“It is for service to Asgard that I call you here today, Thor Odinson.” Loki said evenly. He was perched on the throne as if he were born to be there and he looked down at his crestfallen brother with solemn detachment. Thor remained knelt. The image of the mighty warrior prostrate in subordination was always an engaging sight to the God of Mischief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Service To Asgard

 

“For what service do you summon me, my king.” Thor's head was bowed as was a new custom of his, Loki noticed. Whether intentional or not, Thor did not meet his brother's eyes when he called him King.

Loki suspected it was from shame.

“It is for service to Asgard that I call you here today, Thor Odinson,” Loki said evenly. He was perched on the throne as if he were born to be there and he looked down at his crestfallen brother with solemn detachment. Thor remained knelt. The image of the mighty warrior prostrate in deference  was always an odd sight to the God of Mischief.

Loki had taken the throne after Odin's death. It was sudden and it was unexpected but everyone agreed that the throne suited him. He took the position with dignity and grace. After all, there was no other option. Thor had been exiled to Earth and hadn't proven himself in time to regain his position as heir before their father's untimely passing. Loki had delivered Thor the news in an Earth cell and watched the mortal crumble beneath the weight of it. Loki hadn't said it was Thor's fault, but Thor had taken responsibility in a way that Loki had not expected.

Thor didn't bristle or object when Loki told him who would be king, something that had also surprised the cunning Jotun. It seemed Odin's final medicine to his brash first-born had taken some effect. Thor had been humbled. The beginnings of tears that Loki saw brimming in the warrior's silver eyes had taken him aback and almost made him forget why he came.

Thor asked to return then.

Loki explained the regrettable truce with Jotunheim which depended on Thor's exile.

“There must be some other way,” Thor had said, face flooding with hope and a child-like trust. He was so bare with longing that Loki half expected him to drop to his knees. The former God of Thunder was beaten and broken and looking desperately to Loki for help-- Loki, his younger brother. Loki, the adopted son of Odin. Loki, the Jotun. Thor was completely at his whim.

Of course Loki had been sympathetic. He was a kind and fair king, after all. He allowed Thor to return to his beloved Asgard. There were terms of course, but Thor was ever grateful to his brother.

Some time had passed and Thor took his new position on the King's guard with a dutiful grace. He would never rule Asgard but he was allowed the honor of keeping peace in the realm and serving the newly appointed King, Loki Odinson. Thor fought the realm's battles and protected the city and did whatever Loki asked of him. He was a good warrior, an ideal King's guard,  but as he grew more comfortable in his position, traces of the old brashness and ego began to emerge and Loki could see that he had not fully come into his role as the servant. He took it upon himself to aid his brother in his transition.

 

“King Laufey of Jotunheim requests penance for the attack you lead on his people and your breach of our two realms' truce.”

Thor's head suddenly shot up and he stared down his king.

“Penance?” he barked incredulously, and though he remained knelt, his tone was rising.“For what crimes?”

“Have you forgotten,” Loki said, reading his brother's face, “hostile trespass into Jotunheim and for the subsequent Jotun lives taken by Asgardian warriors-- warriors lead by you.”

Thor gaped, “ _hostile trespass_ -”

“Yes,” Loki did not shout but his tone reached across the room and his eyes held Thor as securely as if the warrior were wrapped in his grip.

Thor noted the tone, as did the guards along either side of the chamber, who seemed to straighten and grip their spears in anticipation. Thor composed himself.

“My King,” he began again, leveling his voice. “How would you have me carry out this penance?”

“King Laufey has requested your voluntary delivery to Jotunheim and a duration of servitude.”

“Absolutely not,” Thor scoffed at once and was about to go off into a roaring tangent on the injustices and atrocities of the idea but Loki's steady voice cut through and silenced him.

“I have accepted the terms,” the King said.

Thor's breath caught in his throat.

“We are at the brink of war and now must do whatever we can to mend relations with Jotunheim. While I wish there was another way, this is the only thing he would accept. And I can't blame him. By cutting short what was meant to be your indefinate exile on Earth, we appear to the Jotnar to have let your incorrigible action go unpunished, and King Laufey will not easily forget that you besieged them. You'll do what is required of you.”

“Unpunished?” Thor swallowed and seemed to organize his thoughts. “I am serving my sentence here,” he said carefully. “Asgard has seen to my punishment in full. As penance for my march on Jotunheim, I am now in servitude. I have no hammer-- no throne,” his careful pace quickened as he grew more desperate, “now I am to serve the Frost Giants in Jotunheim? I will not! I will not, Loki!”

“Your brashness in Jotunheim has earned you a time in servitude to Asgard. But, you have yet to make your peace with Jotunheim. You will go and be done with it and if we are lucky, King Laufey will not declare war on us.”

“Brother--”

“I am your king before I am your brother and you would do well to remember that,” Loki's voice rose to a force that even silenced the God of Thunder. “And as your King, I command that you take responsibility for your selfish and reckless behavior that has not only wracked the civil terms between our two realms but has endangered all of Asgard. I don't think I need to remind you of the life your poor judgment has cost this realm already,” he added and the ice in his words pierced the kneeling Asgardian.

Loki had never outright blamed Thor for the death of their father. It wasn't something that needed to be said. The whole realm seemed to accept that Thor had some role in it, but Loki had never confirmed where he stood on the matter. Hearing it then was like the final blow.

The warrior bowed his head and was silent. Long strands of golden hair slid from behind flushed ears to hide what Loki knew was guilt.

The King's grip that had been tightly wrapped around his staff began to ease as he studied the pitiful sight of the once proud heir to the throne of Asgard, now reduced to a kneeling, hammerless subject of the realm.

He tossed a significant glance to the guards at his shoulder and they began to clear the large chamber. He waited until the last guard was out of the room before stepping down from the throne.

“And as you're brother, “ Loki said finally, and he descended the gleaming steps. They were alone and Loki's severe tone turned to remorseful and his eyes went soft as he took in the tense form of the kneeling warrior. “I advise you do what is best for your kingdom, as much as it pains me to ask this of you.”

Thor felt the sudden closeness of his king above him followed by a commanding touch on his slumped shoulder, inviting him to rise.

Thor's eyes where a stunning, stellar blue as he gazed up at the dark and sleek-haired King of Asgard. He expected the icy, disproving look of the Allfather, but found the warmth and sympathy of his brother. Thor slowly rose to stand beside him, no longer as servant to a king, but as brother to brother.

“Father would have bade it,” Loki said regretfully, and the condoling hand on Thor's shoulder gave a firm, clinging squeeze.

Thor winced as he understood. His eyes closed.

“If you say it must be , brother, I will do as you ask.” His low voice nearly cracked and he forced his eyes to meet and hold the steady gaze of his brother's, as if to consummate the agreement. “You are right, Loki, " he tried to smile, to show him he didn't blame him. "It is my mess. I must set it right... Father would wish it.”

Loki's eyes turned prideful.

“You are a good king,” Thor said and did smile then, but it was still a weak, broken ghost of the blazing smiles that used to brighten that hero's face.

Loki noted the hurt beneath the mask and said nothing, but returned a small smile of his own, masking something else.

“I will do as you ask, brother,” Thor concluded, voice strengthening. “For Asgard.”

“For Asgard.” Loki agreed and squeezed Thor's shoulder again.

 

 

As they moved to the shuttle, guards flanking them from all sides, they passed a long hallway that was alight with blue flames mounted along the walls and Thor's steps slowed.

“Brother,” he said absently.

Loki's brisk strides suddenly halted when he heard the call. He turned back with a scathing look.

Thor realized his mistake, “My king,” he corrected himself, but none of the guards seemed to have noticed.

Loki's sharp look eased and he sauntered back indulgently to see what had so captured his brother's attention. He followed Thor's gaze down the long, blue-lit corridor. Loki knew as well as Thor where it lead.

The corridor lead to a guarded keep that held mysterious artifacts and treasures of Asgard. The items inside were as varying as they were powerful and dangerous. There were historical treasures, remnants of a glorious past; Some had begun great and terrible wars, some had ended them. Some were anomalies, whose functions were a mystery to this day; Some items were stored there to be hidden so that no one could use them, as if people could not be trusted. While it might have been more effective to destroy those particular items, erase them from existence altogether, Asgard would not do history and craftsmanship the horrific insult of unmaking a thing. Instead, they'd keep it down there, locked away in the dark, dank keep, never to be touched or misused again for the safety and order of all the realms.

“No, Thor.” Loki said, knowing at once what Thor was thinking, “It is law. You know you can never wield Mjolnir again.”

The blonde Asgardian already knew the penalty for his betrayal to Asgard and knew it well. When Loki took the throne in Thor's exile, he'd taken pity on his banished brother and in a profound act of mercy and kindness had allowed him to return home, if only under two conditions: First, Thor would serve the realm-- not as heir to the throne but as guard to the king. At the time, Thor had been stung by the loss of his place in the royal line but understood his crimes and was still grateful to be accepted back under any circumstances. And besides, there was great honor in the duties of a guardsman. Then, Loki had told him the second term for his return: In honor of their late father's wishes, Thor, having failed in proving his worthiness, would never wield Mjolnir again.

He was overjoyed to be welcomed home but he couldn't help longing for his hammer. He would forever feel the ache of her absence from his side accompanied by the shame for his actions which separated them. He knew the pain would dull overtime but now, knowing he would be sent far from the guarded walls of his home and dropped in the cold, barren heart of Jotunheim, Mjolnir called to him stronger than ever and he ached tragically for her.

“Do you know what he will ask of me?” Thor asked finally, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away from the cold, haunting corridor.

Loki studied his brother with a pitying look.

“I do not,” he said honestly. “But we have an agreement. He must return you in one piece or we'll be at war the following morning.” That didn't seem to pacify his brother and Loki leaned in adding, “You will be returned by their mid-cycle. We will come for you."

 

_To be continued..._


	2. The Breaking of the God of Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a sight to behold, Loki thought and he couldn't suppress a smile, the breaking of the God of Thunder.

 

There was icy tension in the room.

Thor said nothing to the Frost Giant draped languidly across the throne. The Asgardian had been waiting silently since Loki and the guards had left him kneeling there in the center of the large, hollow chamber and departed the planet. Before he left, Loki had exchanged words with the Frost King briefly. Thor hadn't caught any of it. As Loki left the chamber with the rest, he whispered down to Thor, assuring him again that he was no prisoner there and that they would return at half-cycle to retrieve him.

Though Thor knew it'd been said to comfort and empower him, the outcast prince felt no comfort now as he knelt, one knee to the icy ground before the towering Jotunn. He was apprehensive about kneeling for the Frost King, but Loki had insisted on the way there that it would help their cause to mend the alliance with Jotunheim if he showed that he was trying to be civil at least.

So Thor knelt to the Frost King.

He had been kneeling a while and didn't realize how much time had passed. Beyond the physical discomfort of the prolonged kneeling, Thor could not help feeling relief. If bowing was all it would take to satisfy the Frost King, then Thor would bite his pride and do it. He would do it for the full cycle or how ever long it took to pacify the giant. It was certainly preferable to a number of other things the bitter beast could likely think up with which to torture the Asgardian.

Suddenly, Thor heard the thunderous steps of the Frost Giant descending the jagged throne and his short-lived relief was replaced with a permeating dread.

Thor tensed slightly as the ground quaked but he didn't move. Two broad, giant's feet stepped into his vision.

“Stand,” came the deep, growling voice that filled his ears and sent tremor straight to his stomach.

Thor took a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet.

The capable warrior who was considered fairly large among most Asgardian men was nearly half the size of the Frost Giant and rose just to his chest.

Thor did his best to remain undaunted and fixed his gaze ahead, looking straight through the towering Jotunn.

The Frost King didn't say anything for a while but stared down at his new subject as if coming to a conclusion about him.

“Remove your armor,” he finally said and his deep, quaking voice broke the silence like an explosion in space, “I will not have Asgardian livery in my pure realm. Certainly not on one of my servants,” he added coolly as though to incite a reaction from his prisoner.

Thor had become more patient in his time serving Asgard and even in his short time exiled on Earth. He was not the same God of Thunder who had attacked Jotunheim and did not have the same brash temperament he had then.

He didn't meet the king's challenge, but took another deep breath and removed his armor. He took his time as he lifted the heavy plating from his upper body and unlaced his leggings. When he was done, he placed everything on the floor in a neat pile next to him and returned to a passive stance. He held his arms at his sides and stared straight ahead, looking as undaunted as he could in only his gray under-linings now. They were long and covered him to his wrists and ankles but were thin for agility and did not contain his body heat the way the full armor did. Thor feared the effect the cold planet was having on his body would soon be apparent to the Frost King. Or perhaps this was what King Laufey had intended. Summon the prince of Asgard there to watch him freeze to death.

After another stretched pause, Thor spoke up.

“What would you have of me, King Laufey,” he asked, carefully leveling his voice to conceal any shivers that were creeping into his voice. He wanted to get the whole ordeal done with, but more to break the eerie silence in which the giant spent leering down at him like a great looming statue. It was unnerving. 

“What would I have of you,” Laufey repeated in his low growl, eyeing Thor with both interest and disgust, “I would have you skinned and boiled alive,” he began a steady prowl around his still captive.

It took everything in Thor to keep him from turning his head to watch the giant as he moved out of his line of sight. The Asgardian had been told that Laufey could not harm him, but he was still wary of the mercurial Jotunn.

“I would have your children thrown from the cliffs of Torjunn into the jagged pits of Jarr,” the king continued smoothly, watching Thor's stiffening form, “I would have your slow death relived day after day from here to the end of eternity for the humiliation your arrogance has imposed on my people.”

The circle steadily shrank around the planted prisoner until the Frost King was directly behind him. He stopped then.

Thor felt the icy presence at his back.

“But I cannot do that,” Laufey continued, “I have a truce with your King Loki and the peace between our two realms hangs on my not killing you.”

Thor felt a sharp, icy claw trail down his bicep and he winced through the biting sting.

“As tempting as it may be."

“Then as you cannot kill me,” Thor gritted out, “what service may I be?”

The blonde Odinson had grown more patient over the recent years but he would still not humor the giant's games. He would do his duty to the realm and be done with it. The quicker the better. He expected the grudging Frost Giant to try to rattle him and Thor knew he had earned it, but he was ready for his punishment. He was ready to atone for what he'd done and all the suffering he'd caused. He was past defending the brashness of his past actions and though the idea of answering to this creature made his stomach churn, he was ready to answer all the same.

Anything at least was better than this waiting. The cold was sinking into his bones and Thor feared he would soon be shaking visibly. The last thing he wanted was the Frost King mistaking his poor acclimatization for fear.

“So rushed, Odinson,” Laufey's hiss was near his ear now, and Thor secured his jaw. “I must return you by mid-cycle. If I cannot give you a slow death, trust I will make this last at least.”

A chill ran through the warrior then and it wasn't the cold. His senses spiked as he felt the calculating presence at his back go still and fix on him.

Suddenly, the wide arms of Laufey swarmed around the broad warrior. Thor whipped into action, hips bucking and legs kicking. One large blue hand clasped the Asgardian over his roaring mouth like an ice muzzle and the other encased him around both arms and middle. Thor thrashed so wildly that he didn't immediately register the husky whisper in his ear.

“Such horrors I would rain upon your shining city,” the cruel voice rasped and Thor bucked and twisted. “Such beautiful screams I would wring from its little people. But alas, I have only their golden prince.”

Thor felt his skin going numb where the Jotunn latched onto him.

“And my, how golden he is,” Laufey breathed a deep laugh. “I will have to make do.”

Thor thrashed in the giant's hold with all his might until suddenly, he was released. The Asgardian burst out of the Jotunn's embrace and stumbled backward. As he widened the berth between them, Thor kept his eyes on the king. He was panting from the struggle but brought up his fists and steadied himself, ready for another attack.

King Laufey stared back at Thor and began laughing openly at him, as if he were only teasing the rattled god.

“What is this?” Thor roared, eyes darting around for signs of an ambush. His under-linings were rustled and strands of hair clung like golden web to his flushed face and mouth.

Laufey eyed his incensed prisoner intently before taking an easy step forward.

“Easy, Thunder Prince,” the king cooed. He advanced on the tense god like a wolf, and Thor was the doomed lamb. With every step Laufey took, Thor pivoted backward, poised and ready to defend himself. He didn't see he was being herded.

While the king's games were mysterious and discomfiting to the former prince, it was clear that Thor was in trouble. He was without hammer, without an army and he was alone in Jotunheim with the volatile King Laufey.

In the heat of this strange dance, in which Thor was an involuntary participant, it suddenly struck the Asgardian what it all meant.

It had been a false truce. _Of course_. Laufey had fooled them— his brother and all of Asgard. Thor had been right to resist this decision. 

The Asgardian stumbled over something behind him as he blindly backed away from his advancing host. He caught himself with a warriors grace and didn't take his eyes off of Laufey. 

Thor could have laughed at the poetry of it all. He would pay for his crimes to Jotunheim and the shame he'd caused his people and he would pay with his life here today. Laufey had agreed to the terms of peace but clearly had never really wanted peace to begin with. How blind they had all been!Thor grit his teeth. Now, the Jotunn king would have a dead God of Thunder and the war he'd always wanted and it had all been handed to him on a platter.

Thor's eyes almost welled and he sucked in frigid air through clenched teeth.

“So you will kill me then,” he said in a voice as sure as the uru forged to make Mjolnir.

The giant continued to stalk.

Thor seethed.

“You will strip me of my armor and attack me,” he went on. “Will you give me a weapon at least? What of your honor, Frost Giant?”

Thor didn't dare take his eyes from the Frost Giant's and so didn't see that he was backing through the entrance of a different room. It was a darker room and Thor fought the urge to look around his new surroundings. He panted clouds of vapor and held both fists close.

“Is that what you think I'll do, Son of Odin?”

The giant's ominous figure was draped in shadow as he followed Thor into the new space.

Thor's thoughts raced as he tried to process what was happening and he didn't see that he'd run out of clearing to back into. There was a dull thud and Thor turned swiftly to see he'd backed into an enormous black table in what looked like a large council room.

When Thor's attention snapped back to the giant, Laufey was much closer. The cornered Asgardian looked up into the large, black, glistening eyes of the Jotunn King and saw a hunger, but not for his death or any great war as Thor had expected. 

Laufey took a final step forward.

 

 

 

The council room was large with a tall domed ceiling. The walls were sharp, reflective rock. The long angular table that stretched along the center of the room was smooth onyx and shone severely in the cold lighting.

The sounds of deep, wrenching grunts and the dull thud of firm Asgardian skin slapping against the table surface echoed feebly but would not leave the dense room.

Fists clenched and sweat born of a futile struggle left smeared wet swipes across the gleaming table top that would dissipate seconds later in the cold, dry air.

Large, icebergs of hands wrapped powerfully around warm, muscled wrists and held the bucking body prone. The remainder of the Asgardian's clothes had been shoved aside to expose flushed, goose-pimpled skin to the arctic, biting air.

A deep, feral voice cracked as it hurled curses and futile threats and choked screams that no one heard.

 

 

 

A full cycle in Jotunheim was seven Asgardian days. It was four Asgardian days later when King Loki and his men arrived on the frozen planet to collect their former prince.

Thor was standing between two large Jotunn guards when the small group of Asgardians clad in gleaming armor approached and escorted him away.

A few more words were passed between the two kings before they departed back to Asgard.

 

 

 

“Your realm thanks you, Thor Odinson.”

Thor did not avoid his brother's gaze now as he stood before the throne but Loki noticed that the eternal fire that was once home in those lively blue irises had cooled some. There was little more now to be found there now, and in Thor's stance than total exhaustion. He had surrendered. Or he no longer cared enough. He had lost something in Jotunheim and Loki had yet to measure the permanence of its absence.

The King held Thor's gaze for a moment longer. Waiting for something perhaps. Thor offered nothing.

Having nothing more to say, Loki dismissed his travel-wearied brother, but not before expressing his gratitude for his deeds, impressing upon him their importance in continuing positive relations with Jotunheim.

Thor bowed his head, then turned to returned to his quarters.

Loki watched his brother leave the chamber, noting an unusual stiffness in his stride.

 

 

 

Loki seemed to always have a keen sense of where his brother was, and knew that evening that he would find the blond Odinson in their father's tomb.

Thor was kneeling silently by the large golden casket as he often did when he visited the underground chamber tucked away in the lower levels of the palace. Loki observed the caped, hunched figure from the shadows. The God of Mischief could go unnoticed if he wanted and often observed his brother without the other knowing it. Tonight however, The King sought to speak with his evasive subject.

“I thought I might find you here,” Loki said, gliding over to where the armored warrior knelt by the single great golden casket in the otherwise vacant room.

Thor rose to his feet in a gesture of respect and gave a small nod, but did not speak.

Loki followed the other's gaze over the great, opulent case and together the two brothers stood silently over their father's grave.

After a short time, Loki spoke up.

“You seem to be in one piece,” he said softly, eyes wandered over the armored body that indeed appeared superficially in-tact.

Thor only sighed and Loki thought for a moment that that was all he would get out of his brother but then the broad warrior said, in a small tired voice, “it is done,” and bowed once more before turning to leave the tomb.

“Thor,” Loki called after him. The King waited until the blonde turned around to face him to continue, “it is not, I'm afraid.”

The heavy tone of Loki's voice sank like a boulder in Thor's gut and he waited for elaboration, eyes unblinking.

“As a part of our agreement with Jotunheim, you are to attend reoccurring rehabilitation sessions with King Laufey until he sees the debt repaid.”

Thor's breath caught.

“Loki,” he managed to choke out.

“Thor,” The King interjected firmly, “I trust I do not have to impress once more upon you that it is your duty to Asgard.”

“No,” Thor said finally, and he looked almost hurt, “I will do what is needed,” he swallowed, “for Asgard.”

Loki's chest swelled but he held the stern gaze on his brother, even as Thor's limping figure moved to leave the chamber.

“Father would be proud,” Loki called after the slumped form.

At this, Thor stopped at the door but did't turn.  Head bowed, he said in a small, genuine voice, “thank you, Loki,” and The God of Thunder left the chamber.

Loki watched his brother off then left the tomb himself without a second glance back to the gleaming golden casket.

 

 

Strange.

As the God of Mischief strolled back to his own quarters, his mind lingered on his brother and the altogether odd state of him since they'd retrieved him from Jotunheim.

He had been limping. Loki noticed it as they walked back to the shuttle. He had given Thor a quietly curious look but Thor pretended not to notice. Loki had left it at that.

A slender hand combed through sleek, black hair and Loki felt a pulling regret in his chest.

If only he could have seen it.

The new Allfather sucked in a lungful of air through his nose as his eyes drifted shut. Instantly, his mind swam with flashing images and scenes that he'd always dreamt of but never thought possible until recently. He was filled with a thrill and accomplishment and a surge of power that felt so strong, he was sure it would consume him.

He imagined the look on Thor's face when it dawned on the former prince that he was not going to emerge the victor from this ordeal. Had he fought? Loki hoped he had. He imagined the clinging defiance and quintessential arrogance as he fought back at first, only to be quickly knocked into his place. He was not so strong now without the ready aid of his dearest hammer and Warriors Three. Loki imagined the sorrow and shock when Thor finally realized that the God of Thunder held no weight there and that the once-beloved prince of Asgard was truly and completely dethroned.

How Loki wished he could have seen it.

It must have been a shock, Loki mused, to feel the sting of loss, to finally know what it was to be inferior, to be _weak_. What a sight to behold, the breaking of the God of Thunder. Loki couldn't suppress his smile.

Loki didn't know what Laufey did to Thor but judging by the limp, Loki guessed the giant must have had to orchestrate beatings as reprisal for the oaf's continued incompetence.

He wondered if there were tears. The warrior had scarcely shed a tear in his life but when he did, it was from sheer abandonment of hope and utter helplessness. It was a rare and sweet thing. Oh, and how he must have screamed! Loki's memory still clung to the gravelly whispers to which Thor's voice had been reduced after they retrieved him from Jotunheim. He'd seemed so shrunken and frail then. He would not look directly at his brother nor any of the guards.

Loki tried to gauge how broken-in the former prince must be now, after his ordeal. He was certainly already behaving more like a servant than he ever had before. He was quick to bow his head and avert his gaze and was so hesitant to speak up, Loki would begin to wonder if he'd lost his voice. The power he felt over his once-great brother was exhilarating and it was thrilling and it was exactly what Loki had always wanted. But there was still something strange that tugged at the king.

Loki's mind wandered idly again to King Laufey's methods.

Thor seemed to be alright for the most part. Upon his return to Asgard, he had been immediately advised to seek medical attention in the hospital quarters but had quickly refused, with little explanation except that it wasn't needed. And when they persisted he said that he'd had worse battle wounds that had mended themselves overnight. They'd left it at that. There was a definite tightness in the way he walked though but he tried to hide it and Loki was sure that no one aside from himself and perhaps a few of his closest comrades would be able to notice it. It was minor, and he didn't seem to have any other obvious maims. Anyway, the born-warrior was built like a battle-ax and had seen more battles that most in their lifetime, so Loki doubted a mere beating would sufficiently subdue him. Psychological torture, perhaps? But Loki had been doing that to Thor for years, it certainly hadn't had any lasting favorable effects. So what had Laufey done that so rattled the former prince?

Loki let the thought pass. Whatever the methods, they had done wonders. Loki couldn't imagine the results of a few more “rehabilitation sessions.”

Loki almost laughed aloud.

The only thing that would make him happier would be if he were doing the breaking himself. But he could not interfere, not yet. The king had to keep a distance between himself and the outcast prince.

What kept Loki from joining in on the shaming and disowning of the former prince was the sheer devotion his Thor had shown him since his return. The man would do anything for him, Loki was sure now. Thor seemed to fear disappointing him above all else. Loki knew well the look of shame in the warrior's eyes because he'd felt it himself in his brother's own shadow and in the dismissive eyes of their father. He knew well what it was to want to please-- to twist and to bend and to _break_ for approval. And he knew what it was to come up short.

But Odin was gone. Dead. And Loki was King now. He ruled the realm and everything inside. He ruled Thor. And Thor trusted him _._ He looked at Loki with such unwavering adoration, something Loki had not expected after his exile and Loki's subsequent rise to the throne. But it was there just the same. Thor _admired_ him, wanted to please him, to prove himself.

Loki knew he couldn't sacrifice the way Thor looked at him. He would crush Thor in his hands and hear every break if he thought he would keep that same needy, adoring look in his eyes. In reality, Loki knew that if he showed Thor was it was to truly be inferior, Thor would no longer trust him, would no longer take leaps and strides to please him.  Loki had to be gentle with his servant. He had to take it slow.

He would play the part of the dutiful King, keep Thor fighting for approval. He would leave the breaking to Laufey, and his methods.

 


	3. Give and Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor might have been his servant now but Loki knew that the making of any loyal servants required reward as well as punishment. By putting himself fully in Loki's hands on the shipping dock just then, Thor had impressed Loki. It was almost enough to ignore how distant the hulking beast had been over the last week. It was enough, Loki decided, to earn him a small reward. If Thor was to admire and adore him, he would need to give him something to strive for. Give and Take, Loki thought.

 

_Six months earlier...._

 

In a royal tavern in the heart of Jotenheim, a strange Jotunn sat nursing a drink in a far corner very near the large cushioned throne where King Laufey silently overlooked the festivities.

Aside from being smaller than the average Jotunn, this stranger did not stand out in any particular way. He had shed his Asgardian pigmentation and donned some passable Jotnar robes.

Swaying slightly, he'd boldly taken a seat near the Frost King who only gave him a flickering glance before returning his gaze to the rest of the large lazily bustling room.

The small Jotunn had slurred and swayed but seemed to cause no trouble. The large, armored guards looming behind the king regarded the odd Jotunn warily at first but soon deemed him harmless.

The stranger sat at a respectable distance from the king and mostly just murmured to himself, making soft points as if the King were participating in the conversation.

The drunken Jotuun's small talk was trivial enough for the King to tune him out but soon the conversation turned political and the king's ears couldn't help but hone in on a name.

“....and that Thunder God-- _Thor_ ,” the smaller Jotuun snorted in disgust, “ has been allowed to return to Asgard. Shamefull... Disgrace..”

The name rung in Laufey's ears.

The news of Odin's death and Thor's withdrawn exile had reached across all the realms and become a popular topic of discussion all over but in no place more than Jotunheim. Laufey's people were waiting in bated breath to see how their King would redress the inexcusable slight.

King Laufey had made it clear to the Allfather that he would declare war on Asgard if the brash warrior wasn't delt with. The Jotnar were prime for war, though it was the last thing anyone wanted. There was to be a final meeting to discuss a possible peace treaty with the new King of Asgard and the entire realm was buzzing with anticipation of the outcome.

The stranger, Laufey realized, was still talking.

“They ought to hand him over to us... We'll see to it he's punished properly.” he huffed and took another drink.

The guards, who foresaw no threat in the small Jotunn had quickly lost interest and were not listening as they monitored the tavern.

The topic of the one-sided conversation had trailed into a dangerous area, in which the drunk stranger surely had no business, but Laufey couldn't keep the twitch of a grin from his lips at the off-handed proposal. The king gave a sidewards glance to the intoxicated Jotunn seated at a table near him. It was a dim tavern and even dimmer in the outskirts of the room where they sat, but from the details he made out, Laufey did not recognize this Jotunn.

“And what would you propose we do?” the King half-jested, addressing the outspoken man for the first time.

The stranger paused for though for a moment and then, as if undaunted by the king's sudden input, said simply,“Trade him for peace,” he tipped his large jug back to empty its contents and smearing his sleeve over his lip, “it is only fair.”

The King wore a wearied, humoring look but he continued to listen to the stranger.

“If they will not give him justice,” the man's voice sobered as he turned to look directly at the king, “then let us have a chance at it.”

“I would kill the Son of Odin if given the chance. I doubt that the king of Asgard would make such a grave mistake as voluntarily delivering Thor to my grasp,” Laufey mocked lowly.

“There are other ways to kill a man that leave him whole,” The strange Jotunn's eyes seemed to blaze intently for a moment as he fixed his gaze on the king, “and with peace at steak, the King would have no choice but to accept.”

Laufey thought a moment and then, for the first time since the stranger had stumbled into his royal taver, the king turned and fixed his full attention on him.

“Who are you?” he asked, genuinely curious as he studied the mysterious Jotunn.

Turning back to his jug of wine, the man gave a half-shrug and brought the drink to his mouth.

“Just a lover of Justice,” he said and took another swig, “The Thunder God needs to be felt with.”

The unnamed Jotunn set his drink down suddenly and leaned in closely to the king in a way that might have been overstepping his boundaries but Laufey did not move away.

“And I'm sure the arrogant prince will not soon forget a lesson from the Frost King,” he concluded.

Laufey did not respond but watched as the mysterious, small Jotunn downed the last of his drink, rose and left the dim tavern, swaying slightly as he went.

 

As the stranger distanced himself from the heart of the city, the blue of his skin began to fade away like worn paint, and a horned helm of gold materialized on the slicked back head. Robes of deep blue and ivory seared away into emerald green and royal gold.

Loki was nearing the way point back to Asgard.

 

 

 

A short time later, the two kings met with a preposition to mend the truce between their two realms.

There, Laufey of Jotunheim requested the God of Thunder and would settle for no less.

King Loki was hesitant, at first, (It was after all his brother) but accepted, given the terms that it would be periodic servitude and that The King was forbidden to bring severe harm to the former prince or death and that either would mean certain war.

 

Not a day later, King Loki had summoned Thor to the throne room and eyed the bowed form with some interest.

“For what service do you summon me, my king?”

“It is for service to Asgard that I summon you here, Thor Odinson.”

 

*

 

 

It was now one weeks since Thor's first delivery to Jotunheim to serve King Laufey. He was allowed intermittent retrievals home for recuperation. It was a periodic servitude. Thor was scheduled to return again as per the truce between their realms.

Loki noticed as they walked to the docking station that Thor lingered again where they passed the glowing-blue corridor that led down to the keep where Mjolnir was stored. His eyes burned with a greater desperation than the first time but he did not call his brother back for a last-ditch plea for the hammer as Loki half-expected. This time Thor only dropped his eyes sullenly after a flash of a moment and allowed himself to be herded with the flanking guards.

Thor had been scarce since his return from Jotunheim. He hadn't spoken about the trip with Loki or anyone and spent most of his time skulking around the grounds like a sad ghost. It annoyed Loki to no end. So Laufey roughed him up a little bit. It was to be expected from a mortal enemy-- let him move on! The great God of Thunder had surely dealt with worse in even his more minor skirmishes. The plan was to break Thor of his arrogance and entitlement, to wring him of all vestiges of his former self-- to mold him into the perfect servant. He would look up to Loki, long for his approval and attention, he would wait on Loki and keep to the shadows until called. He would stay near but never dream of outshining his king. He would be like the perfect pet. But that wasn't what they brought back from Jotunheim. Thor didn't even look at Loki unless addressed directly, and he certainly didn't lunge at the opportunity to grovel at his feel. As for outshining his king, somehow, even in his alienation, Thor seemed to glow enigmatically. Loki didn't understand it.

And Thor also didn't appear to blame his brother, who's terms had gotten him into this to begin with, which was interesting to the king. If he did decide to however, Loki would simply remind the brash warrior of how it was only due to his adamant negotiations that Thor was not handed over entirely. But Thor did not even seek Loki out to complain to him.

With Thor's intolerable aloofness, Loki had grown cold toward him. He began to loath the skulking sight of him and was almost glad for the week to be up so as to finally be rid of him again. Maybe this next trip would set him right. He would come back a proper, grovelling servant.

It wasn't until they were crossing the bridge to the docking station that Thor finally spoke.

The blond Asgardian did not step forward into the shuttle with the guards and Loki hadn't noticed his absence until he heard the low, soft call behind him.

“Brother,” Thor said.

Loki turned swiftly. In any other situation, the new king of Asgard would have scolded his brother for the public informality, but this was the first time in a week that Thor had uttered a word to him that wasn't purely in response to something. Loki was stunned. He stared back into the misty blue eyes and his expression softened despite himself.

“Yes,” the king said, waiting.

“Brother,” Thor began again, and his eyes fell, “I— cannot,” his voice broke.

Loki wasn't the sort of man to delay his plans for just anyone, but as Thor shifted and strained uneasily beneath his king's gaze and those luminescent eyes began to mist over beneath blond lashes, Loki felt himself bending.

“What is it, Thor,” Loki asked. Stepping off the ship, he moved close to the suddenly frail-looking Thunder God, as much to hear what he had to say as to shield him from the spectating guards.

Thor's eyes shifted around uneasily.

Loki leaned in further until their foreheads nearly touched.

“Please, do not ask this of me,” Thor whispered at last, “please. Is there...is there...” his deep voice broke and he bit his lip as if to cage in anything else that might slip free.

Loki looked around exasperatedly, making sure that none of the guards had heard.

“You say this to me _now_ ,” Loki hissed, though he couldn't help the odd concern creeping into his voice.

He studied the quietly pleading expression of his brother, and Loki could see that Thor knew he was letting his king down and that it was causing him pain to do it.

Loki steeled himself and arranged his face into a disapproving expression. It seemed to work, as Thor shrank beneath it.

The rugged face that once shone with unmatched self-confidence and assuredness was now twisted into a look of frantic composure and deep need. As Loki stared into the sullen blue eyes, he almost cracked. Part of him wanted to let Thor off then, to tell him he didn't have to go. Had it turned out that Laufey's medicine had already taken its intended toll? In thost shining blue eyes, Loki was beginning to see whisps of that groveling pet he'd always dreamed of in the former God of Thunder.

The look on Thor's face was similar to the look he'd given Loki on Earth, when the then-mortal had begged his brother to let him come home. Loki would never forget that look.

If Loki said yes now, Thor would melt in his hands. He would be the little puppy again, begging to do whatever Loki needed done in recompense for his generosity. It tugged at Loki, seeing the dragging disease that wracked his brother. Despite himself, he wanted to end it somehow. But there was something else that tugged at the king more.

“I'm sorry, my brother,” he said finally, “it is already done.”

Thor's breaths were hollow and his expression fell but he didn't push further. He straightened up, steeled himself and gave his brother a stiff, dutiful nod before moving past him to board the shuttle. He stopped short; Loki's had brought his arm up to stop him.

Thor might be his servant now but Loki knew that the making of any loyal servant required reward as well as punishment. By putting himself fully in Loki's hands on the shipping dock just then, Thor had impressed Loki. It was almost enough to ignore how distant the hulking warrior had been acting over the last week. It was enough, Loki decided, to earn him a small reward. If Thor was to admire and adore him, he would need to give him something to strive for. _Give and take_ , Loki thought.

“If you are not well,” Loki said at last, giving his brother a pointed look. “Your return to Jotunheim can be postponed.”

Thor's chest fell and rose faintly beneath Loki's hand. The blond's brows twisted and his mouth began to purse in an expression of charming confusion that was so at home on the rugged face that Loki almost laughed aloud.

The king turned suddenly to the guards. “Thor is not well and we cannot send our former prince unfit to King Laufey. I'm sure the king of Jotunheim would not want an Asgardian-born illness unleashed in his halls. Send him word and our apologies for the inconvenience,” he said briskly, and one of the guardsmen looked startled for a moment but nodded.

Loki turned swiftly and his long green cape flapped as he headed back to the main hall, guardsmen in tow.

Thor stood staring after his king for an extended moment but was soon awoken to his surroundings as two more guardsmen corralled him off the ramp and back to the palace grounds.

When Thor quickened his strides to catch up with his brother, the _"thank you"s_ , and the " _you have done me a great kindness'"s_ , and the _"if ever I have been in your debt, I am utterly and whole-heartedly so now's_  began to spill from his mouth in a hushed and hurried tone that Loki understood was meant to be a whisper but which the burly warrior had never fully mastered.

Loki did not slow his dutiful stride and though they were roughly the same height, Thor nearly had to skip to keep up with his brother's swift pace (though Loki suspected he was so giddy at that moment that he would have done it anyway). Loki could just feel the shining, adoring smile directed at him. Perhaps it was not too late to retract his decision.

The king hushed his brother's babbling and, when he was sure the guards were out of earshot, whispered, “it is only this once. You will have one week to compose yourself and at the end, no amount of pleading with me or fictional illness will keep you from fulfilling your responsibility to Jotunheim. Remember your duty to Asgard.” The path suddenly took a sharp turn and Loki with it. As if derailed, the blonde slowed to a stop and was soon whisked away down a separate hallway. As he was lead down to the medical quarters, he continued to stare after the receding form of his brother.

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make some slight changes to the previous chapter in order to continue this story. It's not a guys divergence but I feel better about it. I hope you guys like the direction!


	4. The Spa Room

Golden hair lay splayed over sun-bronzed skin. Broad, muscled shoulders tensed and held themselves up on strong elbows as the former God of Thunder laid belly-down on the padded cot in the center of the spa.

The room was like a meadow, green and calm. There were tall twisting trees jutting out of the concrete that blossomed with bursts of wild flowers. A shallow stream crept diagonally across the room where it met a still, green pond. Everything was doused in a golden glow that poured down from the grand windows that lined the vast room. In the heavy euphoria of the peaceful space, Thor looked to Loki like a kind of forest sprite, bare and careless as he lay, lost in thought on his belly, his long flowing hair pulled peevishly behind his ears, and that face that somehow looked both rugged and boyish.

When Loki spoke, Thor pushed himself up at once and twisted around to face the soft-footed man. The sheet that had been covering Thor from around the middle fell to a pool in the warrior's lap and Loki took in the vast planes of bare skin over mounds of well-formed muscle.

There were whispers of old scars that embellished most of the battle-weathered skin. Loki's eyes trailed along some of the more pronounced lines. He knew most of them well and could even name the battles that had awarded them. What was less familiar to Loki was the sunken and misplaced look of the man who wore them.

Thor looked lowly back at the king like a dog who had been caught in some mischievous act.

"How do you find the spa, brother?" Loki asked.

"Better than I remember," he said in his low voice, "You are very kind to offer it to me. I am already feeling better." Thor inhaled the fresh, dewy air deeply, trying his best to look at ease. Loki could see that beneath the forced calm, the man felt like he shouldn't be there.

Thor had been revoked use of the royal spa and gardens since his dismissal from the royal line and hadn't entered the gorgeous grounds in nearly a year. But, as Loki looked upon the former prince there, with the sheet hanging limply about his waist, his hair glowing like liquid gold in the streaming light, Loki couldn't help thinking that the man belonged there. It was as though the room had been made just so Thor could come and glow in it, as though the entirety of the past year had been wasted in his absence from it. It was cruel, Loki mused, that even in his exile, the world around Thor seemed to bend to worship him.

"Well,” Loki took a step forward, “when my brother is feeling over-stressed, I will do what I can to ease his burden if I can't remove it."

Thor nodded and his brow twisted in that strained, burdened way that Loki had come to know well in the last several days since Thor's return from Jotunheim. It was the very look in fact that lead the king to arranged this therapeutic appointment in the gardens.

Despite the near noxious levels of serenity exuding from the ambiance, Thor didn't appear soothed. The blonde's eyes remained trained to his lap and his fingers fretted absently in the sheet.

Waiting to be addressed, Loki thought.

It was curious and endearing. The king was left examining his brother's form for anything that might reveal more than the man would himself.

Finally, he crossed over to the tense warrior and lifted his hand to brush the hair from the strained face. Thor looked up into his brother's eyes. The doleful, distant expression faded away to reveal a small, close-lipped smile. The smile gave Thor's face a warm appearance, which Loki knew well yet hadn't seen in some time.

"There is no need to feel out of place here today," Loki soothed. "You have done well in your work this past year and deserve this time to rest."

A woman in a gray robe entered the room from the opposite end and moved cordially to Thor. She bowed when she noticed the king. Loki waved a gracious hand, barely looking at her.

Thor eyed her briefly before looking back to his brother.

"It is alright, Thor, enjoy it," Loki said to the unsteady look.

Thor did relax a little. His tight shoulders eased and his brow unthreaded itself. He thanked his brother again and laid back down on his stomach.

The woman in the gray, sleeveless robe moved to Thor and began smoothing a warm oil over his skin from neck to ankles.

Loki lingered, seating himself on a stone mantel nearby, commenting lightly to his brother though he grew increasingly under the impression that the blond was not really listening to him.

Loki noticed Thor's occasional shift and clench under the firm touch and twice he heard the masseur instruct him to relax. When she reached Thor's lower back, she skipped over the blanketed portion and went right to his tensing thighs.

The woman had probably gathered from Thor's obvious discomfort that he would not appreciate the more intimate contact, and had taken it upon herself to avoid the area. Loki knew better.

"You need not worry over this one's modesty," Loki called to the woman, nodding amiably toward the covered man. "We would surely be living in a nudist realm had the crown gone to him."

The masseur nodded ineffectually and promptly slid the sheet from Thor's back. Loki swore he heard a small muffled gasp from the cushion.

The woman's hands returned to Thor's thigh but averted it's course upward in hard concentrated squeezes, sliding between his thighs to worry the tender, hidden muscles there.

Thor almost yelped and Loki could not suppress a smile.

Thor had always been a slave to his body's whims and Loki could not recall the last time he'd caught the warrior stealing away to the grounds tavern for a more carnal sort of pillaging. The warrior was surely in desperate want of a woman's warmth. Perhaps that would finally put an end to this deplorable era of sulking.

He smiled to himself as he watched the woman's hands seek out and knead away knots and strains. She seemed to be enjoying it as well. Loki glimpsed the side-long shadow of a smile on her downcast face. Loki could not fault her. The architectural finesse and divine craftsmanship that made up the body of the God of Thunder was not lost on the king. He knew the effect his brother's mountainous build and the thunderous strength beneath it had on those who beheld it, friend and foe alike. The mere sight of him had been known to turn even the strongest Asgardian women-- and occasional man-- into simpering beasts of longing. Thor was quite a conquest, Loki understood.

Small uneven breaths and the failed suppression of gasps ghosted from the turned mouth of the former prince. All Loki could see was the tumultuous clenching and unclenching of fists with each new inch of skin traversed by the woman's skilled hands.

When the royal masseuse had finished scavenging every mound of Thor's backside for tension and effectively mulled it out, she instructed the hulking man to turn over.

Loki could not contain his grin and he turned his face down, steeling himself for the inevitable reveal. He awaited the high-pitched gasp from the poor unsuspecting masseur at what was certain to be the fully filled-out manhood and ensuing boyish grin both worn shamelessly by the upturned warrior.

Thor turned slowly and Loki was already shaking his head to himself. When the prolonged silence finally called the king's attention upward however, Loki saw that Thor was flattening himself over the cot, face-up, and the masseur was rubbing her hands together to warm them before beginning again.

Loki had to lean forward to see that the appendage between his brother's thighs showed no signs of arousal and even seemed shrunken under the scrutiny of the masseur (who's pride also seemed a little deflated). In fact, more blood seemed to have rushed to Thor's upper half; His face looked more flushed about the cheeks than Loki could recall having ever seen it.

The God of Mischief was shocked.

The woman began at his ankles this time and worked her way up.

Loki was no longer commenting to the unresponsive Thor and the sounds the blonde made beneath the concentrated ministrations of the woman were easily heard now in the expansive silence. Face-up, Thor could also no longer muffle his groans and gasps as well and worked visibly at containing them. His eyes were trained to the ceiling of the soothing room and his jaw muscles jumped and twitched beneath the skin.

The woman had moved up to Thor's right thigh now and she was kneading and wringing with such fervor that Loki suspected she was now trying to redeem herself and working double to get some sort of reaction from the flaccid warrior.

Her deft fingers slid between his upper thighs as she moved closer to his apex.

A full and unmasked groan escaped Thor's parted lips and it held so much distress that the woman swiftly pulled her hands away and looked up searchingly at her subject.

Loki was staring as well.

Thor's breath had picked up somewhere during the massage and as everything went still, it finally began to slow. After a moment, he looked down from the woman to his brother as though he didn't understand why they were suddenly staring at him and why the massage had stopped.

He bid the woman to continue, eyes clear and concealing.

Loki noticed the dampness spreading across the blond's hairline and the quiet strain as he laid his head back and scanned the ceiling.

This had certainly not gone the way Loki had expected.

"Brother," Thor said, head turned and his own concerned eyes now resting on the king, "are you alright?"

Loki had been staring distantly off for some time and didn't realize his troubles must have made their way to his face. His eyes traveled back to his brother and to the golden hair splayed gleaming and slightly damp across his face, which still held a dizzy flush. Then Loki's eyes trailed down to the woman's hands whose finger's where dancing down the defined muscles of Thor's hips, slowly inching to his groin.

"It seems my brother has a deeper knot that needs working out," he said to the woman, voice even and fluid. "Will you assist him, Melandra?"

Thor looked confused and he shifted his attention to the woman. She turned back to the king and gave a slight, dutiful nod before Thor felt her deft hands wrap around the bare, thick appendage between his thighs.

Thor rose and grabbed the woman's wrist.

"Brother—" he began. His legs rose too and he looked from the woman to his brother, who had quickly moved up behind her.

"Relax, brother, I know you never liked to use our apt masseurs to their full capacity but please accept this gift from me."

Loki gently guided Thor's arm down to his side and the woman continued slowly teasing the thickening flesh in her hands.

Thor moved to stop her again but Loki's halting gaze and lingering grasp on his arm held the warrior.

"Allow me to reward you, brother, for your enduring service to Asgard." His voice was silk but his grip was iron.

The woman began pumping him with both fists. Thor's lips parted and he moaned deeply. He looked again to his brother, almost pleading.

"As your king," Loki's tone hardened to match his grip, "let me ease your burden." he held Thor's eyes a moment longer before slowly removing his hand. Thor did not try to stop the woman again.

The masseur's fist was moving faster over Thor's full and standing length while her other hand glided down to tease and pull at the velvety globes beneath.

Loki stepped away slowly, watching the scene unfold.

He had witnessed his brother's lovemaking before, though he would scarcely call it that. In those days, Thor's couplings always seemed so base and barbaric to the more dignified god, lacking in anything like grace or control. It was all lust and abandon and filth. And here before him, as the woman wrung the blond's cock to near completion, he couldn't say that his beastly brother showed any more restraint.

Propped on his elbows, chest heaving and twisting beneath him, Thor was a feral thing. His head lulled and fell back as though he had no bones in his neck to hold it upright. The timidity that was there before was all gone now-- an act, as Loki had expected.  Now Thor's eye-lids fell heavy over dilated pupils and his mouth hung open so as not to deter the constant groans and grunts that were wrought straight from his heaving gut. Loki could not see his hips or the cock that the woman was so thoroughly servicing but he saw Thor's eyes roll and his head fall and his legs twitch and his toes curl. And he heard the clipped cry as Thor's voice caught in his throat.

Had it been so long? Loki couldn't help wondering.

Loki walked away with a sense of accomplishment. The scene behind him was slowly untangling: His brother was splayed limply across the cot, panting softly like a freshly deflowered maid. The masseur dutifully mopped up his milky excretions from his abdomen and chest.

“Loki,” came Thor's hoarse, breathy voice behind him.

“No need to thank me, brother,” Loki turned to see the blonde propping himself up on his elbows again to look drunkenly at him. “You need only do as I tell you.”

And that was all.

He left the spa.

In truth it was really all that Loki wanted. And now that the king had cured the former prince of his unbecoming moping spell, he could fully enjoy it. He wanted Thor and his dwarfed legacy out in the open and on full display for the realm to see, not hidden away, brooding on the outskirts of the grounds like an angsty teenager. How could Loki enjoy ruling the golden god if he didn't act truly ruled. Now that Loki had fixed the problem, Thor would begin behaving like a true peon. All would be set right again in accordance with his vision.

 

Two more days passed and it wasn't until the night before they were set to ship out to Jotunheim again that Thor was finally able to catch his brother alone to speak with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write this a little closer to when the first movie came out :p Oh well. It's still a fantasy of mine. I hope you guys enjoy!


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